


Escape

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Young Guns (Movies)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24666016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Chavez is Doc's only escape.
Relationships: Jose Chavez y Chavez/Josiah "Doc" Scurlock
Kudos: 1





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Elamae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elamae/gifts).



A vagrant had tresspassed. 

Dirty, malnourished, paler than the snow that came every December to wreak havoc on the crops- the typical desperation that shined like tears in his bright eyes. 

Dick lowered his gun, slowly and wearily, but eventually until the barrel faced the dirt. The blast echoed, ringing in Doc's ears and giving him a headache, making him wince as what had once promised to be yet another peaceful day morphed into stress and guilt, guilt that are at you like a starving dog, gnawing on your bones. 

The vagrant had trespassed, and now he lay, dead, his own gun having fallen a few feet away. It shined in the weak light, similar to a diamond, and Doc felt an unexpected rise of sickness. He bit his tongue and waited as Dick went and crouched beside the dead man, first placing two fingers on his neck, then sighing and teaching over to retrieve the gun. 

"Go hurry and tell Mr. Tunstall." Dick said, his voice stern and quick, placing the spare gun in his holster but keeping his own in a tight grip within his hand. "I'll handle it from here." 

Doc wasn't an argumentative person. Disagreeing verbally for him was a rare occurrence, and he was desperate, anyways, to get away, _away,_ from this unexpected mess. With a nod, Doc turned and started toward the main house, not wanting to run with his rifle in hand. 

_He's dead. Dead. Unknown. No family._

Doc shook his head. Now was not the time. Maybe not ever- ignoring what had happened might be best bet, because thinking and dwelling would do little but aggravate the problem. 

Swinging himself over one of the fence posts, Doc tried not to think about how final death was, how quick life was, how the man had tried to say something a split second before Dick out a bullet in his chest. It wasn't Dick's fault, of course, but the point stood. 

Doc entered the house, hoping he wouldn't be ill. It felt like it, but that was just an unfortunate side effect of this freak show. He rounded a corner, where he found Tunstall reading, unbothered. "There's been an incident." He said, and Tunstall paled. 

Oh, yes. An incident, indeed. 

Tunstall went out, telling Doc that he'd be alright trekking out there by himself, and so Doc sat, his heart in his hands, trying to conjure up good thoughts. Chavez. Think about Chavez...Think about his smile, and eyes, and voice, and not about the sea vagrant who's name wasn't even known. 

Think about Chavez, and not about death. 

Doc held his head in his hands and thought about Chavez. 

\---------

Chavez was holding him. Doc could feel every rise and fall of his chest, and could see his dark hair, their hands entwined, seemingly becoming one, and as they say in the night, fearful of discovery but at peace, Doc was reassured, because no matter what might happen in life, Chavez would be right there with him.


End file.
